


Secrets

by CastleAndMurdock



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Murder House
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Canon Typical Content, Control Issues, Dark Character, Dead Characters are Alive, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Engagement, F/M, Past Relationship(s), Post-Break Up, Psychological Horror, Stalking, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 03:51:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6688096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastleAndMurdock/pseuds/CastleAndMurdock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate ending for Murder House. </p><p>Violet is keeping an awfully important secret from Tate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets

He didn't notice it at first. That one small detail with such big consequences. He always focused on her face when he watched her, not her pockets. He'd sit in a corner of her bedroom, invisible to her living eyes, and he'd watch. She would do her homework on her bed most days, her school attendance having gone back to normal once Tate had gone away. Her hair would sometimes fall over her face and Tate would have to move over to the opposite corner to be able to see her again. Violet almost never knew when he was there. After their falling out, she would feel him everywhere, his eyes hot-glued to the back of her head. Her paranoia went haywire, _he could be right next to me and I wouldn't know._ But after time, her nerves settled and she forgot about him, like an imaginary friend that was no longer needed. So of course Tate didn't notice it, not even her parents knew. Violet didn't wear the ring where her parents could see it. She didn't wear it to school where her teachers or bullies would take notice. And she for certain didn't bring it into Constance's view. Instead, she would only take the engagement ring out when she was alone, and when she knew Tate wouldn't be watching.

She strung the ring onto a chain that she kept in her pocket, only taking it out when she was outside and away from the ghost boy's prying eyes. Violet didn't love the boy who had given it to her. She saw him merely as an escape and nothing more. Someone to take her away from her horrible parents, away from Tate. Sure, this boy was nice enough, he loved her, but Violet had finally found a way out and she was going to take it. Violet would sit down in the grass, her back to the house and she would turn the ring around in her hands. The sun would hit the small diamond _just right_ and the key to her escape would shine against her hopeful eyes. Tate would look out one of the windows and stare at the back of her head, wondering why she would rather be outside and not in the house with him.

Violet had made plans with the boy. She would pack a bag and after her parents were asleep, she'd slip out of the house and run as fast as she could before the ghosts could give her away. She would run until the street ended and there he would be with his car. Violet would jump in, the ring on the chain in her dress pocket, and they would drive until sunrise. Though Violet had plans of her own of course. Once they stopped for the night, she would leave the ring where he could find it and she would run, figure out the rest later. As long as she was free.

Tate was getting suspicious. She was much more secretive lately. When she was alone in her room, alone with him, Violet would act as if she were in a play, on her best rehearsed behavior in front of an imaginary audience. She kept her eyes from wandering, from searching for where he might be. He knew that she knew, she knew he was watching, she had always known. He had found her secret while she was sleeping, the afternoon sun cascading shadows across her face through the blinds. The chain had slipped out a bit from her pocket. The aged copper chain slid into Tate's hand as he pulled it out the rest of the way. If his heart had still been beating, he would have shot himself. Violet's eyes snapped open when the ring hit the floor, the chain wrapped around it. _I must have dropped it, these pockets are so shallow._ None of the Harmon family heard the sorrowful, strangled screams that echoed through the basement, Tate had learned to be quiet. While very much dead, the pain that racked through his chest was more than alive. _She wouldn't do this, she said she loved me._

Night had finally fallen, parents were asleep, bags were packed, ghosts roamed. Violet dropped her bag out the window, it fell silently onto the grass below. She turned to her door, her hand ghosting over the chain in her pocket. She was so close now, she could feel freedom pulling her away from this horrible, dead place.

"Why?" The voice behind her sounded cold and painful, it's ice gripped at her and held her in place.

"I have to get out of here," she replied quietly. "You can't keep me here anymore."

"I know you don't love him, Violet."

"It doesn't matter," she said quickly. "It's a way out." His hand reached out and gripped at her shoulder, his touch much colder than she remembered. She almost screamed but stopped herself. She slapped him away and rushed out her door. She ran down the halls as quietly as she could, if she got caught now it was all over. She bolted down the stairs, her hands grabbing frantically at the rail to keep her from falling. One last mad dash and she was home free. On the last step, in the dark, she never saw the hand reach out. She didn't even know she had been stabbed until she looked down at the knife sticking out of her abdomen and felt her warm blood rushing out. The hand kept the knife steady inside her, it's grip strong despite it's age.

"He told me," Constance said. "And I am _not_ letting you leave my son." The older woman ripped the knife out, crimson warmth splashed against the wall beside them. Violet fell back against the stairs, her head hitting a step harshly, as Constance dropped down on top of her. The knife rising and falling with each stab, coating Constance in gore. Tate looked down at them from the top of the stairs, Violet now by his side, as his mother continued her violent assault on the girl's body. He looked over at her ghost and smiled, an old copper chain wrapped around his hand.

 _Tate_ would never hurt her, he promised.


End file.
